


Unexpected Rifts

by notarelic



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Post-Canon, Studio Trigger logic, extremely light, hurt/comfort kinda, if you can call it that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22536688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notarelic/pseuds/notarelic
Summary: Lio cannot believe he got in a fight with Galo because he said he wouldn't fancy him if he was a crocodile.
Relationships: Gueira/Meis (Promare), Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 22
Kudos: 189





	Unexpected Rifts

**Author's Note:**

> based on the studio trigger promare "factoids" about remi's girlfriend getting poofed into a crocodile and how lio's favorite meat is also, somehow crocodile

The energy at Burning Rescue is electric when Lio walks in for his morning shift.

Mornings usually aren’t lively, not here. Not when most of his coworkers are barely cognizant, clinging weakly onto consciousness for the last stretch of their 24-hour shift. Galo was one of them today. Lio might feel sorry for him if he didn’t know how much he loved these never-ending shifts. He glowed in his sleep the night before and burst through the doors at noon, full of vigor, positively delighted at the opportunity to keep the city safe for an entire calendar day. Lio was never thrilled to have his boyfriend stolen from his bed, but the two mandatory days off Galo had afterward certainly sweetened the deal.

Though Galo thrives on it, Lio is glad his role as the coordinator of reconstruction efforts is confined to 8-hour shifts. Turns out the bureaucrats who distribute funds that are necessary for Lio to do his job don’t want to be contacted outside regular business hours. God forbid he sends a proposal over the weekend.

Not that Lio can’t handle more than 8 hours; he is no stranger to days with no rest, mornings blending into afternoon into night into morning into afternoon again. 24 hours of vigilance would be a drop in the bucket, but Lio isn’t certified to work alongside his boyfriend, and apparently destroying a city is enough qualification to rebuild it. He still revels in the novelty of his 9 to 5, so he’s content for now.

Ignis was gracious enough to let Lio conduct business at Burning Rescue HQ. Seated in the heart of Promepolis, closer to the action; it _was_ a government building after all. It just made more sense for Lio to set up shop here instead of working from home.

Lio has become familiar with the morning atmosphere, and today is an anomaly. Instead of communal lethargy, an undercurrent of excitement passes through everyone like a static shock. Lio is immediately infected, lightness in his steps as he breezes to the break room. He smiles in the doorway, eyes drawn to his boyfriend pouring a cup of coffee. Black - for him.

“Hey, you,” Lio says to grab his attention.

“Lio!” Galo says, cup in hand. “Good timing! This one’s for you.” Lio thanks him and takes the mug extended towards him, though he knew whose it was based on the rich color. For someone so reliant on coffee to make it through his shifts, Galo sure loves to dilute it with milk, cream, sugar, syrups; anything he could get his hands on, really.

“How was your shift?” Lio asks after they part from a greeting kiss.

“Not so bad, only got called out a few times after you left,” Galo says with a tired shrug. “Had to assist District 1 on the south side ‘cause some poor sap tried to put out a grease fire with water. His whole kitchen was scorched! That’s like, one of the first things you should learn about cooking! I’m thinking about making some informational pamphlets on kitchen fire safety and leaving them around town…”

Lio smiles fondly at his boyfriend’s rambling. How he still had the energy despite his marathon shift escapes Lio. “You’re not going to have any coffee?” Lio gently redirects during a pause in Galo’s rant.

“Nah, I’m goin’ right to sleep when I get home. Not that tired anyway. Lucia let me take a nap in her dorm at 4 a.m. and told the radio I was doing vehicle maintenance with her.” Galo’s eyes widen. “Don’t tell Ignis!” he whispers as an afterthought.

Lio mimes a key locking at his mouth in lieu of a proper response. He bumps his head into Galo’s arm, accepts the one-armed hug he gets in return. He sips his coffee, content with the weight on his shoulders and the warmth at his side. “Something happening today?” he asks when he remembers the hubbub outside of their bubble.

“Oh, yeah! Remi is bringing his girlfriend over to the station today!” Galo relates with a smile. “It’s been a few months since we’ve seen her, so everyone’s pretty excited.”

“Oh? Are they long distance or something?”

“She’s-“ A crescendo in the main room distracts both of them before Galo brings his thought to fruition. “C’mon,” Galo says and drags Lio out to the common area by the hand.

The room is buzzing when they enter. “Is she here?” Galo turns to ask Lucia.

“Yup,” she says, bouncing on her heels. “He’s bringing her in right now!”

“Hey, Galo,” Aina starts, “did you warn Lio about-“

The back door slams open and Varys ambles in. He holds the door open flush to the wall, plenty of room for Remi who follows him in. Remi smiles loosely, warmth radiating off him in waves. Lio can’t help but smile in turn at his uncharacteristic radiance. He’s still smiling when he notices _it_ in his periphery.

A crocodile.

“Oh,” Lio says, immediately stepping back. “Oh my god.”

“Lio,” Galo attempts to whisper in his perpetual outside voice. Lio’s eyes trail from the creature’s slitted eyes to its broad shoulders, relaxing when he notices the bright red collar and leash connecting the beast to Remi’s hand.

“Lio,” Remi says curtly. “It’s time I introduce you to my girlfriend, Xanthia.” Lio wracks his brain to find an explanation for this bizarre bait-and-switch. This cannot be Remi’s real girlfriend; it must be a joke, an allusion to his inactive love life. Is this a hobby? A project? Does Remi breed crocodiles? Is that legal?

“Where did you get it?” Lio asks, shock bubbling away to curiosity. The animal couldn’t be more than ten feet long, significantly smaller than the wild ones Lio observed lumbering about when the Mad Burnish had passed through swampland, sticky humidity tamping down their flames. “You need a permit to keep exotic animals, correct?” Remi frowns.

“Well, yes, in most jurisdictions-“ Remi cuts himself off and shakes his head. “That’s neither here nor there.”

“Wow,” Lio says while crouching down to get a better look. “Do you breed them? I might want one. Meis and Gueira have this great recipe I haven’t had in years…”

The collective gasp of the room sets Lio off balance. He leans a hand on the ground to steady himself, and Remi leans down to cover the crocodile’s ear holes.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Remi hisses. He glares at Lio before turning his attention to the creature, stroking its scaly head.

“That was in poor taste, I apologize,” Lio says, standing up. It must be a pet to garner that sort of reaction. Damn his appetite for overriding his good judgment. He glances at Galo for reassurance only to find that his boyfriend’s face is soured in disappointment. He slowly turns his gaze to the rest of the room. On assessment, he finds that all of Burning Rescue are vexed, second-handedly embarrassed, generally upset.

It’s only at this moment that Lio considers that, maybe, perhaps, this isn’t a joke.

“Lio just said he would eat Remi’s girlfriend,” Lucia narrates with a whistle.

“Poor taste was right,” Aina adds. “Literally.”

“Wait,” Lio starts. Remi’s face is twisted into a tart scowl. “This is your- You’re serious?”

“I don’t know, do you have a problem with that?” Remi says tersely.

“Love is love, man,” Varys says, arm crossed over his chest in solidarity.

“I-” Lio loses his words somewhere between his brain and his vocal cords. “I’m sorry,” he eventually gets out. “I’m just going to- Yeah,” Lio turns on his heel and makes a hasty exit out the side door.

Lio squints against the primavera sun peeking over the skyline. The crisp morning air burns his sinuses as he takes a round of deep breaths to ground himself. A particularly chilly breeze not yet warmed by the still-rising sun sends goosebumps blossoming up his arms and spider-crawl shivers trickling down his back. Lio sinks his sorry ass to the curb. He takes a moment, head in hands, to contemplate exactly where that all went wrong.

A gentle stream of air from the door opening tickles his back and someone sits beside him.

“Hey,” Galo says in the type of tone one uses to soothe a cornered animal. Lio bristles a bit at the notion that Galo thinks he might lash out at any moment. “What happened back there?”

“You tell me,” Lio says, frustration consolidating in a bratty inflection. He pulls his hands away to target Galo with a charged look. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me she was a _crocodile?”_

“I didn’t think about it!” Galo says defensively. Lio hates the utter honesty in the words, honesty that refuses to let him blame his boyfriend for the fiasco. He groans, face reuniting with the solace of his hands. “I really didn’t!” Galo continues, assuming Lio didn’t accept his answer. “I’ve only ever known her this way, I really do forget she’s a bit… unconventional…”

“Unconventional?” Lio yells into his hands, though it ends up muffled and unimposing. “I made a fool of myself, Galo,” he says quietly. He won’t say it aloud, but winning the favor of his coworkers holds high importance to him. They love Galo, sing praises of him, his heroism, his drive, his perseverance whenever he comes up in conversation. He wants to prove himself fit enough to be Galo’s secondhand man. His partner. “How long has she been… _afflicted_?”

Galo emits a hum of genuine contemplation. “I was assigned to District 3 as her replacement, so I’m guessing it happened around that time. Nine months maybe?” he guesses.

Lio side-eyes Galo from within his cocoon of self-pity. “She worked at Burning Rescue?”

“Yup! She’s our missing number six!” Galo smiles warmly, a blooming bud that fades into something wistful. “I haven’t known either of them that long,” he says, “but she really turned Remi’s life around. Got him to settle down. That’s what Aina says, at least.”

“You really should have told me that beforehand,” Lio laments. Galo lays a reassuring hand on Lio’s back.

“It’ll be okay, really,” Galo says, hand rubbing soothing circles on Lio’s shoulder blade. “I can talk to everyone and tell them you really didn’t know. You won’t have to do anything. They’ll understand.”

“You’re too good to me,” Lio mutters. He accepts the gentle comfort and lets himself fall into Galo’s side.

Lio excuses himself for a field assignment and avoids the critiquing eyes of Burning Rescue for the rest of the day.

* * *

Lio wakes Galo up when he gets home, as is custom. He’ll putter around a few hours and go back to bed at a normal time, a maneuver that seems to help Galo right his sleeping schedule after those routine-destroying shifts.

Lio rather enjoys the drowsy, sleep slowed, not-quite-rested version of Galo who only exists in these twilight hours. It’s nice to have him in a subdued state for once, not rearing to go on a small-scale adventure at the drop of a hat. This Galo is more amenable to the simple pleasures of life, which is how Lio has wrangled his malleable form onto the couch to curl up and watch a Nat Geo documentary.

As pleasant as this is, Lio finds himself mentally checking out to revisit the _complication_ that happened at work. Throughout the day unresolved questions popped into his brain, sat there, took up room in his headspace, and refused to leave. At this point they’re outnumbering his unrelated thoughts.

“I’m just… having a hard time understanding,” Lio says halfway through the program. Galo throats a noise of question, not quite ready to pull his concentration away from the television. “How Remi could be dating a… You know.”

“Babe, the otters are holding hands, are you seeing this?”

“Galo, I’m having a crisis.”

Galo finally shifts his attention from David Attenborough and the sea critters to focus on Lio.

“What aren’t you understanding?”

“This whole thing,” Lio’s hands arc in semicircles to form a small world. “Part way through the relationship she just turned into a crocodile? And he stayed with her?”

“Of course,” Galo says. “Why wouldn’t he?” Lio stares at him, the unanswered response _because she is a reptile_ hanging unsaid between them. “You’re not wondering how they have sex, are you?”

“What the hell- No I’m not wondering that, you oaf!” Lio pushes Galo’s arm off his shoulders like it’s the manifestation of that repulsive thought and the associated imagery.

“If that’s not it, then what’s the problem?” Galo squints at the ceiling, mouth twisted off to the side. Lio can practically hear the clank of phantom gears struggling to turn on rusted grooves. “Are you saying you think they should’ve broken up?” Lio flicks his gaze down to his hands in his lap. He picks at the hangnail on his thumb that has been bugging him the last few days.

“Whaaat? You really think that’s a good reason to break up with someone?”

It’s taking every ounce of Lio’s restraint to keep bewilderment off his visage, to not grab Galo by the cheeks and shake him and interrogate him and find out exactly _why why why do you all find this normal?_

“Why are you defensive about this?” Lio asks instead.

“I dunno babe,” Galo says, worry lines creasing between his brows. “It’s making me think about what you would do if I became a crocodile. Would you leave me? Would you stop loving me?” Galo says, his pitch rising in tandem with his distress. “It sounds like you might.”

“That’s not,” Lio pauses. “That’s not going to happen. That’s never going to happen.”

“It happened to people we know! Why can’t it happen to us?”

“How did this become the topic?” Lio rubs his temples and a frustrated sigh escapes parted lips. “I don’t know how I can make this simpler for you. You don’t have to worry about that. _We_ don’t have to worry about that.”

“How do you know?” Galo presses his face into Lio’s shoulder. “Lio, answer me. Honestly, please! If I became a crocodile,” he takes in a deep breath, tenses, “would you still love me?”

“Galo, I’m sorry, but I can’t-“ Lio edges away from him now, pointedly ignoring the unnecessary devastation swept across Galo’s features. Over something this absurd! “I can’t give you an answer because I literally cannot contemplate that scenario seriously.” Lio wipes a hand down his face, lets it linger over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“I would still love you,” Galo says. Lio is ready to chastise him humoring this ridiculous concept, but he glances at Galo and his words die in his throat. Instead of the needy little face Lio was anticipating, Galo is staring at him earnestly, expression set in complete, honest devotion.

Lio realizes, with a startled rush, that Galo is completely serious. Galo would, without hesitation, stay with Lio if he were to somehow become a crocodile. He would introduce him to his friends and be unashamed to call him his boyfriend. He would wait patiently for the uncertain day that he might return to human form, but he wouldn’t anticipate it. It wouldn’t matter to him as long as they were together. Galo would be okay to stay with him, indefinitely, as a crocodile.

Lio needs a moment.

“Lio…” Galo whines when Lio pulls away from his touch to stand.

“This is- This is too much,” Lio frets, wringing his hands. The new information traverses every crevice of his brain, desperate to find a place to settle, but every neuron declines its absorption. “I should go,” he says. The thought of responding to that confession makes him queasy. He turns on his heel and stalks to the bedroom.

“Wait, wait, what’s up?” Galo says, trailing him. Lio yanks open a drawer and starts pulling out clothes he’ll need for a few days away. “Lio, wait a minute,” Galo says. Pajamas, socks, underwear. Oh, he’ll need a bag to carry it all in. “Lio, please, you don’t have to go anywhere-“

“I really think I do,” Lio says. Is he forgetting anything? Phone charger?

“Lio,” Galo says. Lio ceases motion. “You don’t have to run anymore.”

The words knock on Lio’s heart, drag it downwards, try to force their way in.

“Galo… I can’t do this right now.” He skirts past Galo in the doorway and doesn’t allow himself to look at him. He detours to the bathroom to quickly grab his toothbrush, snags his keys from the bowl at the front door, and rushes out before guilt convinces him otherwise.

* * *

“His girlfriend is a fucking crocodile?” Gueira says, jaw dropped open in a cartoonish display of shock. Meis stares with widened eyes.

The three sit in a loose circle in the apartment they previously shared before domesticity beckoned Lio away. He had shown up at his old residence a few hours before, overnight bag in hand, looking for a night or two of respite.

“Trouble in paradise?” Gueira had said, chuckle cut short by the irritated twitch in Lio’s eye. He had quickly scuttled off to find Meis, a venting session cresting over the horizon.

Lio is perched on the couch, his ex-lieutenants gaping up at him from the floor. The seating arrangement is strangely comforting, reminiscent of the days when the two took orders under him, rapt with attention as he explained whatever escape strategy or covert maneuver was on the agenda. A captive audience reassures Lio that what he says holds weight, although nowadays all he can offer is a story about his coworkers whom he’s realizing are more peculiar than he originally thought.

“Yes, a crocodile,” Lio says. He feels bad for seeking out external validation that his reaction to the Xanthia predicament was warranted. Upon reflection, everyone’s nonchalance to her condition bothered him, made him feel oddly gaslit. He feels guilty for taking this outside the workplace, but his friends’ equally shocked reaction gives him the affirmation he needed.

“Crocodile as in, like, the reptile? The swamp dwelling creature? This isn’t some kind of sex metaphor?” Gueira leans forward over crossed legs like getting closer will help him understand.

“No, his girlfriend is a literal crocodile,” Lio says. It somehow sounds more ridiculous verbalized than it did internally. “She apparently was human before. She worked at Burning Rescue and then there was an… incident.”

“Are you sure this isn’t a joke?” Meis asks.

“Yeah, is this hazing or something? Do firefighters haze rookies? Is that a thing?”

“It’s a fire station, not a frat house,” Lio snaps. “I thought it was a joke too, but…” He grimaces at the memory, reliving the full-body rush of shame. “They were completely serious. They all looked at me like I grew another head. Even Galo,” Lio says. He huffs through a pout, bangs fluttering off his forehead.

“They can’t seriously expect you to think that’s normal,” Gueira snorts in disbelief. He flops sideways into Meis’ lap, who catches him with experienced grace.

“Stranger things have happened,” Meis says. He rests hand atop Gueira’s rat’s nest hair and pets him absently. Lio eyes the casual affection between his cohorts, weary jealousy rolling to a simmer in his chest. “A rift in the space-time continuum introducing interdimensional aliens that gifted fire wielding abilities to a select group of people, for example.”

“Wow, when you put it that way it sounds _crazy_ …”

“Believable or not, it’s true,” Lio interjects, “and I fear my reaction irreparably damaged my coworkers’ opinion of me.”

“Don’t worry boss,” Gueira says with genuine but unmerited confidence. “I’m sure you can salvage it.”

“I,” Lio starts. His hands form a shield around his face, only effective at repelling disapproving looks. “I talked about the gumbo recipe.” He’s unprotected from the cringe in his friends’ groans.

“Never mind, it’s over for you boss,” Gueira concludes with no further questions. “You really were a fiend for that stuff back when we stomped around in Louisiana though, weren’t ‘cha?”

“It was so good,” Lio says behind his hands. Gueira and Meis hum in agreement. Lio ruminates on if he can ever eat his favorite food again in good conscience.

“Galo and I are in a fight over this.” Lio says, breaching the main reason for his distress. “He’s upset I wouldn’t promise to stay with him if became a crocodile too. Can you believe that?” Lio says.

Silence draws on for a beat too long. Lio emerges from his shell and prepares for the worst, but Meis and Gueira are locked in a mutual gaze, sharing knowledge through some sort of telepathic mind-meld that Lio has never understood. “What?”

“Well… Would you?” Meis asks.

“Why would I ever have to worry about that? Ever?”

“Like I said, stranger things have happened. It says a lot if you can’t answer that question easily.”

Lio is dumbfounded. “You’re on his side?”

“Kinda.”

“Man, and here I was thinking this guy was the one for our boss.”

Lio bristles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“When you know, you know,” Gueira shrugs.

Meis pets Gueira’s hair up past his hairline and holds it off his forehead, lips curving in a docile smile. “You know I’d take care of you as a crocodile, baby,” he says, a declaration rather than a hypothetical. His lack of intonation makes it sound disingenuous, but Gueira grins like he uttered the greatest truth ever told.

“Me too, babe…” he says, puckering up with an over-exaggerated sound effect.

Lio holds a hand up to block out the tender display. “I’m going to bed,” he says, completely and totally done with this day.

“Yeah, I have to wake up early for my shift at McDonald’s anyway,” Gueira says, disentangling himself from his lover. “Hey boss, you could probably work from the PlayPlace if they kick you out of Burning Rescue after this. I could put in a few favors- Hey!” Lio ducks out of the room before the couch pillow he used as a projectile can be volleyed back his way.

Lio’s ire rises when he shuffles into his old room and flicks on the light to find it has been turned it into secondary closet in his absence. _Maybe “dumping ground” is more accurate_ , Lio thinks when he inspects the utter magnitude of _stuff_ that has accumulated. He grumbles as he moves boxes off the bed and stacks them in the corner one by one. He understands the urge to hoard after years of vagrancy, but this is out of hand. Far too often Meis has called to update him on his latest antique store find, and every time he visits at least one package in Gueira’s name is sitting on the stoop, freshly delivered. Maybe he’ll have a talk with them about this later.

Lio sighs as he removes the last bit of junk from the mattress. He changes into his pajamas, suddenly exhausted, and falls back into the bed with a graceless _fwump_ that sends dust particles floating into the atmosphere. Lio sneezes once, twice. He nudges his head into the pillows, a little cold, a little lonely, and a little sorry for himself. He really hasn’t been here in a while. He hasn’t slept alone in a while.

The audacity of those two bumbling idiots to pervert this ridiculous but very real argument between him and Galo to puff each other up and shove their effortless love in his face. Sure, banter is their main form of communication, and they trade affection more often in the form of shoves and kicks rather than tender touches, but the easy way they love each other inspires awe. They fall into step with each other on most issues and operate on a level of synchrony that Lio has only felt twice: in his deep relationship with the promare, and for a brief moment piloting Galo de Lion and its vice versa with Galo.

Gueira and Meis play off each other like a bow on strings. They pluck melodies out of each other and thrum together on a harmony only they can hear. Lio would be lying to say he believes he and Galo can function that way. They’re far too dissimilar.

Lio rolls over with a deep exhale. Maybe it’s his fault for shacking up with the enemy.

He doesn’t sleep well.

* * *

Lio Fotia does not remember the last time he apologized to anyone.

Not that he’s averse to the concept. He can swallow his pride and apologize if the situation required. It just hasn’t come up in a while.

He had walked into Burning Rescue that morning with a pre-scripted apology planned in his head. A diplomatic way to acknowledge his wrongdoings and stroke normalcy back into place. Yet, like bureaucracy has taught him, an apology cloaked in a varnish of insincerity; just enough to afford Lio some dignity, considering vindication still swirls in his gut over what he deems to be a rational reaction to the news your coworker is romantically involved with the creature from the black lagoon.

Remi has been rather cold since Lio brutalized his girlfriend. This, he can’t blame him for. The resulting tension had been expected, but is uncomfortable nonetheless. Remi avoiding his presence, ducking out of rooms when Lio enters, had also been expected though it complicates his task of executing his apology. As the day draws on, Lio is losing the momentum and desire to confront Remi at all.

Lio needs to apologize. It’s the right thing to do. It’s necessary. And despite what Lio knows to be right and decent, he’s still affronted, feels wrongly accused. He works hard to not blame Remi for the tension between him and Galo.

Lio makes a decision around noon to get it over with.

Despite being months removed from a fugitive lifestyle, Lio retains a people-watching habit. He has already analyzed the behavior and movement of his coworkers, a practice as reflexive as the beat of his heart. A quirk that once kept him alive now only applicable in trivial scenarios like this. Lio is innately aware that Remi’s need to sate his caffeine addiction will lead him to the break room post meridian. And it does.

“Hello, Remi,” Lio begins, polite apology poised on the tip of his tongue. His fingers twirl around the pencil he used to fill out crosswords while he waited.

“Lio,” Remi acknowledges. Eyes forward, he beelines past the coffee maker. Lio frowns.

Glass clinks and plastic packaging crinkles as Remi rifles through the refrigerator. He emerges within seconds, hefty packages in arm, wrapped in white paper barely visible through the semi-translucence of double-bagged plastic.

“What have you got there?” Lio asks, words backed up and piled onto each other, tempting an icebreaker before Remi has the chance to evacuate. Anything to get him to converse long enough to slide in that democratic apology.

“Just some meat scraps from the butcher. I’m meeting Xanthia for lunch,” Remi says and pushes up his glasses just _so,_ florescent light from the overhead bulb refracting off the lenses. Eyes hidden from view, windows to the soul shuttered off, Lio is no longer privy to how Remi receives his words.

“Very nice,” Lio says. Where in the city could they possibly publicly meet? “About that,” he coughs, “I would like to-“

“Save it,” Remi says, chin held high. Haughty. “If this is about yesterday, I can tell you don’t mean it.”

Lio blinks, disturbed that Remi has seen through him in less than thirty seconds.

“You’re not the first one to react badly to her,” Remi continues. “I just thought you of all people would take it well.” Lio’s pencil fiddling slows to a halt.

“Why?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Remi says. Tendrils of anger lick at Lio from the inside. The last person who talked to him like _that_ got- “You’re committed to Galo so I thought you’d be more understanding of our situation.”

“Committed?” Lio says with a skeptic laugh. This is not the direction Lio planned this conversation to go. A sense of urgency froths at the loss of control.

“Yes, committed,” Remi says. “I have eyes and ears, Fotia. Aren’t you and Galo the ones who go wild with that flowery _’til the ends of the earth_ stuff?”

Lio flattens. Apparently his and Galo’s intimate little honeymooner conversations around the time clock were not so private after all.

“What does this have to do with us?” Lio strains out. Remi finally locks eyes with him. He pulls out the chair next Lio and sits down to face him. The atmosphere shifts. Remi has stepped down and placed them on equal footing. Lio relaxes.

“I guess you struck a nerve,” Remi admits. “Everyone always talks about how well suited you and Galo are to each other. Everyone is so happy for you two. It used to be the same way for me and Xanthia,” Remi says. He exhales an exhausted sigh that settles dissonant on Lio’s ears coming from someone so young. “Now everyone reacts the way you did. They don’t understand why I stay with her and say I should leave. But she’s still _her,_ and we’re still _us -“_ Remi scrubs a frustrated hand through his hair. _“_ I’m still not used to the way people talk about her now.”

“I didn’t realize- I’m sorry,” Lio says, unsure of where to go from here. “I really am, I didn’t know-“ Remi’s raised hand halts his self-defense.

“Don’t. You still don’t understand why I’m so unbothered by her.” Lio shuts his mouth in a terse line. “That’s the thing. I _am_ bothered by it. Don’t think this hasn’t been hard on us. On our relationship. Our dynamic completely changed.”

“Why don’t you leave?” Lio can’t help asking.

“I don’t want to. I love her.”

Prongs of shame jab Lio in his softest spots.

“I can tell you still find it strange. That’s fine. I dedicated myself to her, I’m going to love her and take care of her regardless. All I ask is for you respect that.”

A contrite flush crawls up Lio’s neck. He never expected Remi of all people to teach him a lesson in humility, but here they are.

“Well, this was a nice chat, but I have to get going. Xanthia’s probably wondering where I am,” Remi says. He stands up and heaves the bag of miscellaneous animal parts onto his shoulder. He pauses and gives Lio a pitied look. “Thanks for trying to apologize,” he says.

Lio starts script revisions as his eyes track Remi out of the room.

Lio closes himself in his shoebox supply-room-turned-office. He’s aware he’s hiding, but he’s sure anyone who sees him will recognize he’s been knocked down a peg, and that’s unacceptable. He tries to cool down by sifting through paperwork, but his focus dwindles quickly and he’s unable to concentrate on anything but that conversation. He restlessly drums his gloved fingers on his desk and rests his chin in his other palm.

Lio has refused to acknowledge the deeper reason behind his odd reaction to Galo’s confession. He didn’t leave because it was a strange topic. That would be a foolish reason, considering last week he and Galo had discussed in earnest whether pizza would be pleased or afraid to be eaten if it had consciousness. No, what disconcerted Lio was that Galo, indirectly through a hypothetical scenario, verbalized his loyalty.

Loving people too deeply has consequences. Loss was an integral part of the Burnish experience. Attachment is vulnerability. Lio tried to postpone developing any sort of affection for Meis and Gueira for months after meeting them, fraternity and camaraderie be damned. They wormed their way into his heart regardless, the bastards, and the parasite known as love only made it more difficult to make tough, levelheaded decisions as a responsible boss. Lio still isn’t sure what he did in a past life to have his righthand men make it out alive with him. He would die for them. He almost did.

Galo said he didn’t have to run anymore. In this new, safer world, Lio is somehow still running from that vulnerability.

He knows why Galo was upset. They shared silly conversations daily, started shallow debates over shower thoughts and pseudo-problems and _what-ifs_ just to poke at each other’s brains and learn a little more about each other. This was not one of those conversations. Galo was not genuinely asking if he would be attracted to his crocodile form; he was asking for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. Would you, Lio, stand by me? ’Til the ends of the earth?

_When you know, you know._

Lio creates a mini tornado by how quickly he stands, papers fluttering onto the floor.

He needs to talk to Galo, right now.

* * *

Lio stands in front of his own apartment door after gunning it all the way there. He taps his heel to the rhythm of anxiety, the reverb of the doorbell reaching him, muffled through the thin wood. He folds his arms tightly across his chest. In his haste, he hadn’t contemplated what his next move would be if Galo was out doing errands, at the gym, or otherwise MIA. Sit and wait for him like a runaway dog slinking home after a night on the streets? No, neediness was decidedly not his style. Leave a note? A desperate voicemail, maybe?

The door opens before Lio fully fleshes out an escape route.

“Lio,” Galo breathes with an airy lilt of relief.

“Galo,” Lio says. He flounders. “How was- Uh, how was your day off?”

“Sucked,” Galo replies. Lio’s heart pumps out a sad little pulse of guilt.

Lio becomes acutely aware of how tired Galo looks, eyes underlined in dark purple. More tired than he looked after he had finished his shift. Had he slept after Lio left?

“I came here to tell you something. I was going to text you, but it didn’t feel right-“

“Oh god, are you breaking up with me?” Galo says in despair. His death grip on the door very well might splinter the cheap wood. Lio gapes at him.

“No, it’s not that- _God_ no _,_ it’s not that,” Lio rushes out, a little hysteric. “What the hell, Galo- No, I love you.”

Galo sighs out an over exaggerated _phew_. “What is it then?”

“It’s about yesterday,” Lio says, rather lamely. Galo stays quiet for once, and when Lio looks him in the eye he doesn’t seem upset. Confused, maybe. Curious, more likely. Either way, he appears receptive to whatever Lio needs to say. That’s a start.

“If you were a snake,” he starts, taking a deep breath, “I would buy live rats to feed you.”

“You hate rats, Lio!” Galo says with a little spastic breath.

“I know. Let me finish.”

Lio only looks at Galo’s perplexed expression for a moment before continuing. “If you were a cat, I’d let you sleep in my lap every night,” he says, taking a step forward.

“If you were a lizard, I’d buy you one of those heated rocks. If you were a jellyfish, I would… Uh…” He wracks his brain for a moment. “I don’t know what jellyfish need. But I’d find out. And if you were a crocodile,” he says softly, walking into the arms opened for him, “I would stay with you, and of course I would still love you.”

“Aw, Lio,” Galo says. They took a few minutes to hold each other, breath syncing, just existing together. Lio can hear his own heartbeat in his ears in this soft quietness.

“You really scared me when you left,” Galo says after a few moments.

“I’m sorry.” Lio tucks himself further into Galo’s chest. “I freaked out. I didn’t understand the depth of it. I do now,” he admits softly. “I’m done running.” Lio can feel Galo’s lazy smile on the crown of his head.

“You were right though, it probably won’t happen to me,” Galo says, humming softly. “That girl handled more biotoxins on a daily basis than most people see in their lifetime.” Lio hums in return, resolved to simply not ask. “I don’t want you to think this is a dealbreaker or something.”

“Even so, I want you to know I’m in this for the long haul,” Lio says, tilting his head up to look up into blue eyes. “I love you, Galo Thymos. No matter what form you’re in.”

“You’re corny,” Galo says.

“I got it from you.” Lio raises up on his toes to nuzzle against Galo’s jawline.

Galo takes his opportunity to draw him in for a proper kiss and Lio folds immediately. The chaste join of their lips quickly turns desperate, both of them eager to make up for lost time. Galo grasps at Lio’s sides in that enthusiastic way he does when he’s excited, and Lio returns the sentiment by running his hands under his shirt to grope warmed skin. He lets out a breathy sigh when Galo breaks off to lay tender kisses on the vulnerable spot under his chin, down his neck. The way he communicates _I missed you, welcome home_ in the press of his lips has Lio thinking maybe there’s something to that couple’s telepathy Gueira and Meis have.

“Shit,” Lio curses to the side. Galo looks up from where he’s leeching on his neck. “I left my toothbrush at Meis and Gueira’s.”

Galo unsticks himself with a laugh. “Go ahead and go. I’ll wait for you!”

This time when Lio runs, it’s for all the right reasons.

**Author's Note:**

> xanthia is greek for "blonde", so says google translate. it seemed fitting considering thats lit-rally all the info given about this girl pre-croc.  
> also this is the first fic i've completed in 7 years please be nice to me  
> 


End file.
